*
I will not
repeat what
flowers tell me
as I walk by
at sunrise
their opening
to daylight
exhaling joy
it will stay
as gentle breeze
compressed
in shells shapes
to the sides of
my curious head
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
.
Sunday Poems are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
sono rimasta senza
parole vero per una volta
ho trattenuto il fiato
stretto dentro me
unico appiglio rimasto
mentre ancora corro
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
*
wisdom can be found
in forgetting
love is stitched on a
white canvas
an array of colors
red for bleeding
is an illusion to the eyes
it’s calm blue deep
within
and forgiveness
may be a life raft
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
.
Sundays are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
Una riga,
dentro una volta c’eravamo noi.
Ceneri
negli angoli di una stanza buia.
La notte
attendo che mi si racconti l’amore.
.
.
.
Tratta dal libro Imputami il peccato di voler sopravvivere
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
.
*
may my smile
be forever loving
as I play in life
new roles and adjust
words as a tight dress
may wind clothe me
forever changing
just that loving smile
let that one survive
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the “California Notebooks”.
*
provo un poco alla volta
a cancellarle tutte queste
rughe che mi hai dato ci
credevo felici ci credevo
.
.
.
.
*
I load on beauty
between silences
those of plants and
lack of rain
these shivering
when reefers come
are not gossip or loud
news they are stanzas
needing spaces
in between needing
solid whites an invisible
bench to sit on
.
.
.
This poem is part of the collection California Notebooks 02
Sundays are dedicated to Italian poetry
*
le palme alte
frugano il cielo
frusciano nel vento
la notte la piscina
illuminata
non ha onde per
chetarmi l’animo
rovistano il buio
le palme mosse
da brezza di
stelle da moto
di luna
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Questa poesia fa parte della nuova opera California Notebooks 02
*
it has been long
since I spent
a winter in the north
since I saw trees
undressed months
on a row or tea
time served with
cold sunsets
no cups of love
to hold now
with frozen
fingertips
.
.
.
.
Una sorpresa per questa domenica pre-pasquale (sembro un pulcino appena uscito dall’uovo), il segmento della mia intervista in diretta a Seilatv – Pomeriggio216. Racconto dei miei viaggi nella California del Sud dove ho “raccolto” i miei due volumi poetici bilingue California Notebooks
A early Easter surprise (yes, I look like a chick that just cracked off the egg in this interview, LOL) a live interview for an Italian TV where I tell about my trips to California where I “gathered” poetic inspiration and where I wrote the two volumes of the California Notebooks
*
a river pouring
you are not rushing
to me poetry flows
out is hard to contain
I’ve no hands for that use
I’ve new eyes to embrace
strong legs clasped around
it’s an odd place wonderful
to be tell me what is
new today with you
*
raccolgo le parole
come margherite
in un campo nuovo
attenta a tenerle
in piccoli mazzi
mai così belle
come appena scoperte
un ricordo di meraviglia
arrossiscono si chiudono
sul loro significato
si coprono il cuore
schive della verità
piuttosto prossima
al nostro spirito sordo
che rammenta solo
un paio di note
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Poesia tratta da “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli
.
*
we all walk
bundled up on
winter days
but the dogs
jump for joy
the old man
will not sit by
his fire he takes
himself out
slowly stretching
his steps next
to the lines
of poplars
he will walk to
the end not
a thought
of surrender
.
.
.
*
sognare è qualcosa
per cui vivo e quando
vivo mi sembra di sognare
tu questa cosa non l’hai
mai capita tranne una volta
ormai non ti vedevo da
mesi mi hai sognata tutta
arancione ed ero bellissima
mi hai detto ecco una volta
ti sei lasciato scappare
che ero bellissima
.
.
.
*
and then
there was that
truck fading away
into the curve after
having committed a
crime I witnessed
I knew I could be
of help if I memorized
the plate but I could
remember only three
numbers and its
shape – none
when I woke up
.
.
.
